Kiss Of Darkness. Heather Graham

      It was time for her to act.

      Literally.

      “Oh, my God!” Mary said. “That must be her, the dominatrix the Hungarians were talking about.”

      Jeremy stared at the woman. She couldn’t be missed, and not only because of the black leather mask hiding her eyes. Her hair was pitch black, her skin fair. She was wearing black leather pants that clung to her form, showing little, but somehow emphasizing the perfection of her hips and thighs. When he forced his eyes upward, he saw she was also clad in a sheer black blouse over high, full breasts—he had to look twice to realize she was wearing a skin-toned top beneath the blouse. She was completely and decently clad, but the outfit still had an erotic appeal. In this case, more was less. He tried to stop staring. The sight of her was kicking his libido into overdrive. It was a strange feeling.

      But then, strange feelings had been coming on ever since Mary had first talked to him about the party that afternoon.

      She had been thrilled all during the ride in the black carriage, drawn by two black horses, that had taken them deep into the woods. The carriage had felt like something out of an old-time horror film, as had the ride through the fog-drenched trees. Nancy, a cute redhead, also in the journalism school, had been every bit as excited. She had stared out the window every few seconds, saying, “Can you believe this?”

      She said it again now as they stood there, just inside the entry.

      “Can you believe this?”

      Mary nudged her. “Nancy, don’t gawk. We’ll look totally out of place.”

      Jeremy was fairly certain they didn’t look as if they belonged to begin with. The girls had dressed in miniskirts and boots, but it was cold out, so they were also wearing tights and sweaters and heavy coats. He was in his usual tourist garb, jeans and a sweater. But here…

      People were in every manner of dress. And undress. Several wore traditional vampire capes, but they weren’t in the majority. A few of the women were topless. One, a redhead of about thirty, was naked. She wore nothing but a belly-button ring and a silver belt. An extremely well built black man strode by, and he, too, was in the buff, except for a flapping loincloth. A few of the men smoking and drinking at the bar wore coats—at least some people in the place recognized the fact it was cold out.

      And, to be fair, there were a number of men and women in very ordinary clothing. The kind that actually covered their bodies completely. As he watched, a middle-aged man at the bar adjusted his fake fangs.

      “Where’s the girl who invited you?” Jeremy asked.

      Mary shook her head. “I don’t see her. It’s a big place. She must be somewhere.” She led them toward the crowd by the bar.

      “Americans,” the woman in black leather said, suddenly materializing in front of them. Strangely, Jeremy got the idea that she wasn’t particularly pleased. A look passed across her face in a fraction of a second that made him shiver.

      Then it was gone. As if it had never been.

      “Americans,” she repeated. “You were invited?”

      Her English was heavily accented. She rose, walking toward them. She was strikingly beautiful, with perfect features, dark eyes. He wondered if in real life she might be a model.

      Actually, she didn’t walk. She sauntered, every move entirely languid and sensual, her eyes filled with an amused confidence that both set a fire in Jeremy’s gut and also a warning. She eyed Nancy and Mary with a smile, then turned her attention to Jeremy, sliding a hand down his arm. Again, he was strangely excited, and yet…he didn’t feel she found him particularly exciting. In fact, it was almost as if she were putting on a performance. But for whom?

      Of course, her whole life was probably an act, if she was indeed the dominatrix, as Mary believed.

      “A woman I met in town invited me. She told me to bring friends,” Mary explained quickly, then introduced the three of them. Jeremy noticed that the woman didn’t introduce herself in return.

      Again something indefinable passed through the dominatrix’s eyes, so quickly that he decided he might have imagined it.

      Must have imagined it.

      She went on with that same sensual amusement, as if she were educating the totally innocent—which, of course, in the circumstances, she was.

      “Children, let me point out the playrooms. Beyond the bar, the movie room. We have a comprehensive selection of exceptional quality, men and women, women and women, men and men…whatever might appeal. Up the stone stairway…the pleasure rooms. Just beyond that, my personal domain. My dungeon. Visit me later, if you dare.” She smiled at Mary and Nancy. “Have you been bad?” she inquired in a throaty, teasing voice. “Do you need confession? We can arrange for that, too. But first, you must have a drink. The special tonight is a Bloody Mary. Mary…how darling, just like your name,” she said, eyeing Mary again. “Tonight, everything is on me.” She laughed softly. “We’ll find a form of payment. For now remain at the bar. Watch.” She stared at the three of them for a long moment. “I will tell you when it’s all right to move, do you understand?”

      “Yes,” Jeremy said, relieved. He had to admit, he was more than uneasy.

      He was…scared.

      She leaned close to them. “Always know the way out,” she said.

      “Always know the way out,” Nancy repeated. Jeremy wondered if he had sounded almost mesmerized when he had spoken, the way Nancy did.

      The dominatrix seemed pleased with the response and smiled again.

      She exuded a sleek sensuality, along with something smoldering and fierce. She escorted them the rest of the way to the bar and spoke to the man behind it. “Drinks, please. Right away. For my American friends.”

      The bartender was tall, lean, dark-eyed, perhaps in his early thirties. He nodded, then hurried to do her bidding.

      They sat at the bar to wait for their drinks. Looking around, Jeremy thought it might have been almost any bar anywhere—except for the naked people and the masked woman. Next to them, two men were discussing something in French. At the end of the bar, a good-looking man speaking German was trying to pick up a pretty blonde.

      He turned to say something to the dominatrix, but she was gone.

      “This is so exciting.” Mary whispered.

      “Yeah. A thrill a minute,” Jeremy murmured.

      “Stop being such a weenie,” Mary told him.

      “You know,” Nancy murmured, “we’re not going to learn much if we spend all night just hanging out at the bar. We need to look around.”

      “That woman just told us to stay here,” Jeremy said firmly.

      “She also said we should watch,” Nancy argued. “We’ll see more if we look around.”

      “She said to stay at the bar,” Jeremy repeated firmly. “And to always know the way out.”

      Mary giggled. “Maybe they’re worried about police raids.”

      He had a sickly feeling the dominatrix had been worried about something far more serious.

      “Look, Jeremy, that woman is gone, and we can’t just sit here all night,” Nancy said.

      “We need to split up,” Mary added. “No one is going to talk to us if we stick together like the Three Musketeers.”

      “We should stay together,” Jeremy warned uneasily.

      Mary laughed softly. “You shouldn’t want us hanging on to you. Our hostess seemed to be pretty into you.”

      Jeremy didn’t know why, but he had the feeling the dominatrix had quickly assessed him and found him too young and far too naive. He looked over the heads of the Frenchmen